


dancing bears, painted wings

by sarahyyy



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, also supposed to be part of the anastasia au i'm never writing, enjolras needs to use his words, stupid boys in love, unnecessary manpain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 09:36:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahyyy/pseuds/sarahyyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire gets it, he gets that Enjolras is trying to tell him something, but he doesn’t know <i>what</i>, and the logical thing to do would be to ask Enjolras to explain himself, but he doesn’t, because he’s stupid, and would rather lose sleep trying to figure out what Enjolras is trying to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dancing bears, painted wings

**Author's Note:**

> Title is shamelessly stolen from "Once Upon A December". The whole dancing thing is stolen shamelessly from Anastasia. I just have a lot of feels for this movie, okay?

It starts out awkward, the both of them shuffling about in search of a rhythm that works for them. It’s really not as easy as it sounds, trying to dance without music. 

“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to let me lead,” Enjolras says finally, breaking the silence.

Grantaire swallows, and does, letting his footsteps fall in line with Enjolras’. It’s surprisingly easy to fall into Enjolras’ steps, to let the warm hand on the small of his back guide him, once he allows it to happen. 

He thinks it would be dangerous to allow himself to love Enjolras. It wouldn’t be something he would tread into slowly, no. It would be like crashing waves and falling from a cliff. It would be a love that would be capable of ruining him. 

He isn’t sure if he would ever be able to allow himself to love Enjolras.

He isn’t really sure he hasn’t already done so involuntarily. 

“You’re good at this,” Enjolras says suddenly. “I hadn’t realized you could dance.”

Grantaire ducks his head, mostly so he wouldn’t have to look at Enjolras, see the pleasantly surprised look in his eyes and hope. “Jehan makes me sometimes,” he tells Enjolras, “when he’s feeling particularly in the mood for dancing.”

Enjolras tenses slightly at the mention of Jehan. “You and Jehan,” he says slowly, as if he’s weighing his words carefully. “Are you together?”

Grantaire blinks at him. “Together?”

“A couple,” Enjolras clarifies, looking mildly uncomfortable.

Grantaire laughs, and it makes Enjolras’ step falter. They get back into a rhythm relatively quickly before Grantaire says, “God, no. I love Jehan, but we could never— Wait… Do you like Jehan?”

It would make sense, it would. Jehan has been spending more time with Enjolras than he has, the both of them pouring over books, Jehan trying to school history and literature that Enjolras is supposed to know to him. Of course Enjolras would like Jehan. Jehan has been nothing but nice and never picks fights with Enjolras, never laughs at his idealism, never calls him stupid nicknames. 

Of course he would like Jehan, quietly brilliant Jehan who is beautiful, even more so than the words he writes. Why wouldn’t Enjolras like Jehan? Even Grantaire himself fell a little in love with Jehan and his sweet smile and kind words the first time he’d met him. 

“What? No,” Enjolras splutters, but his cheeks tinge with red, and fuck if that isn’t the clearest sign that he’s lying. 

Grantaire wants to cry and he wants to lob a brick at Enjolras’ head for doing this, but he loves Jehan, and Jehan deserves to be happy, he deserves to have someone like Enjolras, and he would deserve to have Enjolras if he wants Enjolras. 

“I could,” Grantaire says, and halts his feet, breaks the careful rhythm they have established. He cannot bring himself to look at Enjolras. “I could ask Jehan to come, have him pick up from here. He’s a better dancer, and I’m sure he would love to spend more time with you.”

He moves to step away from Enjolras, but Enjolras’ fingers tighten on his. 

“Grantaire,” he says, and he sounds frustrated for some reason. “I’m not— I don’t like Jehan like that.” He pauses for a moment, runs his fingers through his hair, and Grantaire can almost hear the wheels in his head spinning, searching for the best words. “It’s not Jehan,” he settles on, giving Grantaire a look. “Okay?”

“Okay?” Grantaire echoes in confusion, because for someone who is supposed to be good with words, that was stupidly cryptic. _It’s not Jehan._ What does that even mean? 

The confusion must show in his eyes, because Enjolras heaves a sigh. “Can we keep practicing?” he asks, looking away from Grantaire, lips pursed in something that’s not quite a frown, and Grantaire gets it, he gets that Enjolras is trying to tell him something, but he doesn’t know _what_ , and the logical thing to do would be to ask Enjolras to explain himself, but he doesn’t, because he’s stupid, and would rather lose sleep trying to figure out what Enjolras is trying to say.

He nods at Enjolras instead, and Enjolras takes his hand and steps closer to resume his position, close enough for Grantaire to just lean in and press his lips to Enjolras’ if only he was just brave enough.

(He isn’t.)

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi, I'm [here on tumblr](http://sarah-yyy.tumblr.com)!


End file.
